#fridr

re/ the ergi discussion re/ drengr etc—

I feel like what’s really missed here when talking about cultural norms at that time is the true contrast between níðr and either of those two other things. It was always better to be drengr than ergi, but both was better than níðr. You can’t talk about these things in a vacuum. There was more to society than whether you were drengr or ergi—there just was.

For example, yes, drengr wasn't restricted to men; it was more of the cultural sense of what was expected of most people, and for certain, people of power and/or means. Drengr is bravery of the self. Just as honor to community didn't mean martyrdom, this courage didn't mean toxic pride nor vicious cruelty. It was self-control. It is, in essence, boundary work: consistently being able to stand up for yourself and your actions, to be appropriately assertive in your responses, and show fair play.

Ergi had those passive connotations I spoke about in my previous post, which included observational skills, often the ones that led to a variety of magic (although you’ll notice the berserker-úlfhéðnar-skipta hǫmum type magic wasn’t considered ergi and I’m sure you don’t need to be led to why). This “hesitation” was "cowardly,” and being on the receiving end of information was less valued that the one powering the information. This is why ergi comes into play as likening men to women, both from a social construct setting as well as, later, sexual slang (bottoming for men—mind you, topping wasn’t ergi—and horniness for women, how weird they want it like a man does).

Just as men could be ergi for practicing magic (even Óðinn was called ergi!), and women could be ergi, women could also be drengr. (Shieldmaidens, anyone?) These “gendered” concepts were based in expectations but were not exclusive to gender. I think maybe that’s why they went with coward in AC:Valhalla: to emphasize the cultural component over the slang. However! Let’s get back to níðr! It was no joke. To have the status of níðr was to be deemed shameful; a villain, avoided, reviled, and untrustworthy—a níðingr.

Typical causes for such disgrace included: desertion; treachery; shameful acts (such as killing kinsmen or defenseless people); breaking one's oath. When a man betrayed the trust of another man, that man would become known as a níðingr. This person wasn’t a coward: he was a problem. You couldn’t count on him to contribute to society. You couldn’t rely on him as a friend or a neighbor, or a brother-in-arms. He was unpredictable, untrustworthy—useless. 

Okay, cool? Cool. Let’s get back to drengr/ergi. Not useless.

Sometimes, if someone had it out for you, ergi could land you as níðr if you failed to defend yourself (failing to defend yourself when insulted? not a good look). Ergi ≠ níðr; it wasn’t a perfect circle venn diagram, you could be ergi without being níðr. Drengr was a state of existing, a way of being and moving through the world, a default setting, even, if you well. People didn’t call people drengskapr regularly; this was what was expected of you. To be called drengskapr outright meant you did something really noteworthy. So, what else was involved in being “manly,” if that’s how we’re going to code drengr?

Being a good fucking person.

No really. It wasn’t just Hi here’s my dick, fuck you, eat my sword—drengr (as aforementioned) was about being composed of the self and an asset to community. Keeping friðr, for example—maintaining social contracts and bonds in a peaceful way, agreement not to cause physical harm to each other. There’s luck, honor, reputation, hospitality—all key components of functioning in this society. You didn’t know when you were going to be the one that needed help, so you helped where you could. Being a good viking was about interdependence—not about toxicity.

Fríðr.